Inquisition
by xswallowheart
Summary: Grell's promised day with Sebastian. Smut one-shot, basically PWP.


He comes in a whirlwind of red; hammerhead-teeth and marble bright eyes.

They are not surprised – can do little to quiet the tornado he presents, unbending to the authority of words or muscle. The Reaper's presence – now more often a commodity than not, in the bout of Ceil's childish and whimsical amusement – has become commonplace at the Phantomhive mansion. The house and it's company deals with him in a spectrum of variety – the servants, frightened and wary of the unstable smudge of red; Sebastian, irritated to detestable ends and consumed with the process of prying him away like the cat to the canary; Ceil, allowing his presence if only to supply a form of distraction from his mundane stretch of days – to bane his demon with the upturn of lip, derisive and cruel.

"Sebas_tian!_"

A universal sigh is uttered as the Reaper disturbs the office silence, streaking into Sebastian with a smudge of red and white and triangular teeth. Ceil watches on, torn between bitter amusement and distaste, pen propped at mouth and fingers stilling at pages. He had been resignedly flipping between documents that had little means or matter to him, prompted by the Queen – Sebastian looking onwards to contemptuously correct any mistakes.

"Grell." Sebastian is not amused; at the reaper, clasping his waist with arms stronger than they might appear; at Ceil, impudently allowing it with a subtle leer at lip. "Kindly take your hands off me." This is answered with a beastly giggle, fingers digging tighter into his skin. Grell ignores Sebastian – not a rarity, when what Sebastian is saying does not liken to his tastes – crooks neck towards Ceil, doe-eyed and razored teeth and lips curved into a desperate plea. "Please, Ceil, today? Remember your promise, Ceil, remember!"

This request is not a new one. It has become a game of sorts – Grell, calling his cards (or rather, the glorious promise of a day with Sebastian) and Ceil twirling the temptation between his fingers like a cigarette or a lie. It has, for days now, been a sharp and tempestuous no. Until -

"Very well."

There is a collective moment of shock, from the butler and reaper both.

"Do what you will with him, Grell." There is a grin on his voice – tangible and thick – even if it is not evident on his cheeks. "Sebastian, he is not to be harmed."

The silence stretches like twine – until Grell explodes into a furious splash of red, jerking Sebastian's arm and blowing beholden kisses at Ceil, uttering a myriad of affections for having his desire – finally – answered.

And so their day begins.

**xxx**

They are in one of the many rooms, in the many wings of the mansion, away from prying ears and eyes. Grell is tangled at his arm, coy eyes and smiles and whispers. "Sebbbyyyy." There is a palpable whine in his throat as he jerks the stoic butler into an unused guest room, wide-floored with a chest at the foot of a huge, sprawling bed; forest-brown panelled walls and brimming green shutters.

The door slams behind them, unnoticed by Grell who has turned and pressed himself flush again the chest of the enduring and unmoving butler. "Ceil said I could do what I want with you, _Sebbbyyyy_…."

Sebastian stills; he has been unspeaking until now, following Grell's whims with a grimace and fingers clenched into fists. Being led to a bedroom was unsurprising – he knows what Grell's intent is and perhaps he does not mind complying as much as he should. He is a demon; he is not unused to the temptations of Reapers and men alike. And if the Young Master has ordered he comply – than, what is there to do but just that?

"And what do you want, Grell?"

The reaper fists Sebastian's vest, chin peeking upwards. His voice is quiet - muffled. "You, Sebby." Silence stretches around them for minutes, until –

"Very well."

It takes seconds – Sebastian lurching forward, pressing Grell against the opposite wall with a force unconfined. The smaller visibly blanches, eyes saucers and hands limp at his sides; unsure whether to believe his fortune. Sebastian can only leer onwards – clasp at Grell's wrists and jerk them upwards, suspended above his head until the reaper grimaces in discomfort – gasps and writhes.

"Sebas-"

Grell's words choke in his throat as Sebastian pushes a knee forward, slowly spreads the Reaper's legs and presses forward until thigh is pressed to groin, hardening with an evident bulge beneath his pants. Slowly, he begins a teasing friction, rubbing upwards and then down, Grell spluttering beneath him and uttering a moan in tender breath. The contact is delicious, a warm spell gathering at his groin and his voice hitching in arousal. He moves, desperately chafing a circular motion until the Butler forcibly shoves him away, fingers clenching dangerously at his hip.

A smirk curls at his lips; upturns the bow of his cheeks. "Patience, Reaper."

Grell whines beneath him, still lost to the opulence that the Butler is conforming. He wants to move his hands, to lean forward and _taste. _"Kiss me, Sebastian!"

The butler quirks a brow. "No."

Grell whines, trying to rut against him again before being stilled by Sebastian's hands. "Why not?!"

Sebastian can only simper; bring one hand to almost _tenderly _stroke the curve of Grell's chin, before jerking him roughly off the wall and hurling him onto the bed. "I have my limits." Grell says nothing more – briefly downturns his cheeks before brightening as Sebastian nears him. He is writhing in want, erection obvious beneath the thin fabric of his trousers.

"Are you going to take off my clothes?" His voice is seductive, eyes hooded.

Sebastian ignores him, grabbing his wrists again and jerking him upwards, before using a free hand to undo his belt. The Reaper purrs, confused but uncomplaining as Sebastian brings his belt upwards – and deftly ties the redhead to the headboard.

Grell whimpers in a superlative arousal and a touch of fear.

At first, the butler is still, watching onwards with a flighty leer, ripe with amusements untold. Grell's heartbeat is running at breakneck speed, his eyes alight with excitement and his hips quivering. He nearly speaks until suddenly Sebastian leans downward – pushes the Reaper's legs apart and sits between him, spread-eagled and trembling.

"Have you changed your mind?" The butler asks, and there is a challenge in his voice.

Grell very nearly shrieks in desperation and annoyance – "of course not, Sebby! Now _touch me._"

And so he does.

Inclining, the butler arches over Grell, lips – or rather, teeth – coming down to protruding collarbone. He is still for a moment, listening to the furious beat of the reaper's heart, breath quickening – and firmly latches on. A guttural moan dithers between Grell's lips; breaks away from the cage of his throat. He is squirming beneath him, shoulders groaning in complaint at their awkward angle, breath clouded with whispers words and pleas and promises.

Sebastian's other hand edges towards the hem of Grell's vest, dithering before taking hold of the seam and jerking downwards – the vest forcibly tearing at shoulders and being deposited somewhere behind them. Grell yelps in surprise and complaint, hands straining against fetters. "My _vest! _What did you do that for?!"

Sebastian, briefly, says nothing; merely stills his hand (drawing circles at Grell's belly over the thin fabric of his shirt) and glances upwards, eyes intense and ripe and leering. "Have you changed your mind?" He repeats, head slanted to angle.

Grell growls, rutting hips upward into Sebastian – an answer and a demand.

Sebastian, strangely sentient throughout their frenzied meeting, can only smirk; fist Grell's shirt between his fingers; and rip it off as roughly as the other. The Reaper – wisely – does not comment, but still hisses a wisp of breath between teeth in slight discomfort and candid arousal.

Sebastian's lips have worked their way from the valley of Grell's collarbone, nipping white and pearly flesh until he reaches the bloom of Grell's nipples. Slowly, composedly, he brings lips to the bud, tweaking it with tongue, sucking gently. It drags laden moan from Grell's lips, his hips attempting to rut upwards again but being held still by Sebastian's elbow.

"Sebastian, please, can you- _ah!_"

Sebastian's teeth unsheathe from lips, nip at the sensitive flesh of Grell's nipple with no lack of force. The Reaper groans in pain and hooded excitement, desperate to wrap fingers around his erection, to soothe the pulsing mess inside of him.

Sebastian grins into Grell's flesh, other hand moving to the hem of his slacks. This time, he does not rip them – there is a sigh of relief from the ruby-red mess beneath him – but pops the button, eases them down long white legs. When they are discarded on the floor, with the remains of the shirt and vest, Sebastian stills, glancing upwards with leering eyes.

"What was it you said before?" He tilts his head, fingers coming to lip in faux-misunderstanding.

Grell groans quietly; his heart is feverish, beating at the cage of his chest. Still confused by Sebastian's compliance to his master's orders, without protest or grievance, and reasoning with the breakneck speed of his heart which has detonated with how _hot_ and _sweet _and _fantastic _Sebastian's lips feel on him; aching with a hunger visible at his groin. "Touch me."

Sebastian inclines his head further. "Oh? Where?"

Another choked whimper. "You know, Sebastian… _There._"

Finally, Sebastian glances upwards, and there is a quirk of brow, a burdened leer. "Oh."

Grell has no time to react as Sebastian palms the large protuberance of his erection, meekly covered by lacy red woman's underwear. He moans loudly, hips quivering, eyes hooking closed, the butler's touch exhilarating; electrifying. The friction of the up-down, one-two pace is very nearly enough, caged in excitement and arousal, as Grell moans listlessly. His whimpers increase as Sebastian's hand curves inward, gripping the bulge with more force. "Seb-as… ah!"

It is all Sebastian needs to prompt him; wordlessly he grabs the lacy string of Grell's underwear, ripping it away. It is almost a shame to watch it go – small and snug and triangular, a appealing sight on Grell's uncannily feminine body. His mouth returns to the pink bud of Grell's nipple – the Reaper, writhing and panting weakly beneath him – his other hand gently coming to stroke the base of his cock; to lazily draw his thumb across the slit of its head.

Grell moans gutturally, fingers white from straining at his ties.

Sebastian's leer lightens slightly, thick with appreciation and the coarse choke of groans. He may very well dislike the Reaper, but his libido – as easily as he can ignore it – suffers from his intolerable stay with Ciel, bending to all his juvenile and insufferable whims. His own groin begins to tighten in arousal; erection straining against the seam of his slacks. He speeds his fingers, and Grell is raucous beneath him, arching his back and weakly thrusting his hips upwards to meet the butler's hand. "Seb-bastian, I-I'm almost -"

His words sharpen with an audible squeak as Sebastian promptly removes his hand. Grell jerks his head upwards in confusion, red hair mapping lines of the comforter beneath them. "Wha-what did you do _that _for?! I was almost…"

Sebastian merely grins – incisors peeking at lip, brow slanted in hilarity – and offers Grell three fingers, probing at lip. "Suck. And if you bite me, I'll have the master order for your death." Grell whines in the depth of his throat, erection twitching pathetically in a raucous _want_but he complies, taking Sebastian's fingers in his mouth and lathering them with his tongue; eyes on the butler, unwavering.

Once Sebastian is satisfied he removes his fingers from Grell's mouth, trailing them against the marble white of his chest; the flat of his belly, his thigh; coming to rest at the small puckered entrance below. Grell is trembling, erection twitching violently and breath rattling in his throat. "Sebby, plea- _ah!_"

Sebastian gives no warning as he plunges a first finger in, the redhead wincing in discomfort at the new and bizarre feeling. But something inside him utters a groan, a deep warmth spreading as Sebastian adds a second finger, and then a third, scissoring and preparing him, his other hand stoking across the underside of Grell's cock to distract him from the biting pain.

Grell moans viciously beneath him, arching his hips, desperate for _more, _knowing there is, but unsure how to voice it. He squeezes his eyes shut, slowly accustoming to the discomfort, a burn deep inside of him, opening his mouth to ask Sebastian to stroke his erection harder when fingertips touch a sweet spot inside of him and he cries out, hands fisting at headboard, cock leaking and lips gasping words they should not.

The feeling is electrifying, and combined with the now more persistent stroking of his seeping member, it sends him into tides of pleasure he was unaware existed. He is desperate for his hands to be freed – to fist Sebastian's hair, to push him further into him, but he satisfies himself with pushing downwards to meet the friction of Sebastian's fingers, panting and muttering and frantic.

When Sebastian pulls away again – leaving Grell teetering on the edge of orgasm – he knows not to complain; just hitches chin to watch Sebastian with desperation deep in his eyes. "Now, Sebastian?"

The butler does not answer – brings fingers down to deftly unbutton his pants and edge the zipper down. He inches closer on his knees, hands possessively taking the underside of Grell's thighs and arching him upward. He moves forward until his erection – still covered by sheen of fabric – is pressed flush against Grell's entrance, slowly and leisurely grinding against him until the Reaper cries out in frustration. "_Please, _Sebastian, don't tease me!"

And so he does not. Without warning or further preparation he pushes the tiresome fabric away, freeing his erection and forcing it into Grell.

The Reaper yelps beneath him, spine hooking and breath catching in his throat. At first, the pain is extraordinary – a burn which travels from his entrance to his groan to the pit of his stomach, vile and bright. But Sebastian's other hand comes to tease at Grell's erection, blissful and distracting, and he begins – uncharacteristically – slow and careful prods, teasing and lethargic, until Grell can feel _that spot _itch inside of him, desperate to be touched, and he pushes down into him, lidded eyes darting upwards and tongue grazing teeth. "Se-Sebastian, _harder_…"

The demon complies immediately, pushing deeper and quicker into him with an unexpected force. Grell bites lip – drawing a beautiful, ruby smudge of blood with his shark teeth – fighting the discomfort, fidgeting hips, searching, searching, until – "_Ah!_"

Sebastian finds the sweet spot with ease, and begins his quickening thrusts, directly hitting it with each tremulous prod. Grell is near shrieking-point beneath him, pushing down to meet him, electricity gathering inside him and _oh god, it feels good, so _fucking _good, _and Sebastian's other hand comes to Grell's cock, fisting it, pulling roughly so the slit stretches and the head quivers in _bliss _and Grell can't feel anything but the furious beat inside of him, a growing forest fire, sacrilege on his lips and under his eyelids.

Sebastian is silent except for his breathing which slowly and surely hitches, indicating he feels more than he'd rather exhibit. Grell has no time to worry other such casualties, however, too consumed with the _ecstasy _welling inside of him, a pleasure so remarkable he is speechless except for the guttural moans spilling from his throat like bigotries.

He does not last long – the pressure of Sebastian against his prostate is already enough to drive him over the edge, but the added stimulation of his cock, fisted and juddered and leaking like a well, already has him teetering on the brink of climax, breathless and extraordinary. "_Ah, _ah, Sebast-ian, I'm a-almost there…"

The butler only nods – a sharp jerk of chin – and ploughs deeper, eyes briefly shuttering as Grell tightens around him, tightens still, until -

"_Oh, oh, _fuck!" Grell finishes around him violently, a shake racketing through him, exploding onto his stomach and lost in the most intense orgasm he has experienced. Sebastian, prompted by the sudden squeezing of his cock, gives two more sharp thrusts before hitting his own bliss, emptying into Grell and uttering his own guttural: "_ngh._"

Sebastian gives himself a moment of pause, steadying his breathing and his heartbeat, until he pulls himself out, redoing his buttons and watching Grell – exhausted and shuddering in the aftermath of orgasm – with amused appreciation.

The redhead does not notice as his hands are freed, belt replaced back onto Sebastian's suit; as the butler presses a feather light finger to Grell's sweaty forehead; and leaves, jacket slung over arm and mouth ghosting into the carcass of a smile.


End file.
